Roaring Twenties
by Solasta15
Summary: Cassandra LaFleur has the dream of becoming a jazz singer and poetess, but she's already achieved that in her hometown, where she is satisfied. Harlem is her new story, with new worries, and the beginning of her Roaring Twenties. This contains mild violence, sexual references, and racism. I advise you to not read if you are sensitive to this kind of material.
1. The Big Easy

I ran threw town, greeting people as I passed them by.

"Good evening, Mister Rue!"

"Evenin', Cassandra!"

"You goin' to jazz it up, Cassandra?!" Miss Lucille asked me.

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Mama, can I go see Miss Cassandra perform?" Lil' Louise asked Mrs. Claire.

"Louise, you're not old enough to go to those kinds of things," she told her with a gentle smile.

She pouted, then looked at me, "Miss Cassandra, only one more year, and I'll able to hear about yo' awing voice in the club!"

I laughed at the seventeen year old girl.

You see, I'm a jazz singer. I sing whatever comes to my mind: from the loveliness black greets to the subtle white meets.

My dream is to become a poetess and jazz singer, but I already kind am here in New Orleans; not being a big time poetess and jazz singer satisfies me. Fame is complicated business.

Unfortunately, I'll be moving to Harlem, New York because my Father got a big promotion in the newspaper company.

Since Harlem is the blackest and jazziest, we'll be safe from..too much prejudice.

Ya see, I grew up in New Orleans, so I didn't have to face that kind of thang. This was once a French settlement after all. Oh yeah, I'm Creole.

Creoles are sometimes easy to spot because of the mix of black and European features, but...there's something wrong with me specifically. My hair is silver, but no elderly silver-a cloudy silver, my skin color is as I implied-seemingly morganite, and my eyes are a oceanic blue...or aquamarine.

Blinking my eyes, I realized I was in front of my usual audience.

"Good evenin', y'all!" I said in the mic and they applauded or responded. "Since this is my last day here in this town, I got a special jazzy poem tonight."

The percussionist, bassist, and saxophone began to make a tune and beat for me. I could match my poetry to almost any beat.

"Sweet New Orleans, I'll miss you. Sweet New Orleans, I won't lose you. Yes, I won't be in Kansas anymore, I'll be in New York, what a wonderful wizard of Oz, yet such a Wonderful Wonder World of Wonderland. The Big Apple, they say? I guess it's okay. Ain't nothin' like Sweet New Orleans, the Big Easy. You can come up with gold and glory in the Big Apple; however, God is forgotten in their minds of how they gained that fame, an aim in New Orleans. Now that I've said my rhythm and rhymes, it's now my time to say goodbye to Sweet New Orleans...but not for a lifetime."

I took a step away from the microphone and my audience began to clap and whistle to my words that were loaded like a pistol...

Coincidentally, my heart had been shot at when I met a pair of chocolate brown eyes...and mine would soon no longer see his because after I depart...

We'd be apart.

I smiled at my audience, "Goodbye and good night, y'all."

 _~Small Time Skip~_

I sat under a tree on a hill, staring at the night sky for stars.

"One day, I'm gonna be a star, I just know it."

Scrutinizing the stars, I suddenly came up with an hypothesis.

'Though stars are big balls of hot gas…in context, what if they're people who died young because of something like…segregation, discrimination, persecution…'

"If I want to become a star so badly…will I end up like them up there?" I asked myself.

Shaking the depressed thought away, I pointed out the constellations: Two fish (Pisces), a ram (Aries), the Big Dipper, Andromeda, Neptune, the crab (Cancer), and the scorpion (Scorpio).

"Whatchu doin' out here, girl?" a familiar voice asked me.

I looked down a bit to see chocolaty eyes...

"Camil! Long time, no see, brotha from anotha motha! How ya doin'?"

He sat beside me, chuckling. "Good, good…and my Mama's doin' good, too."

We laughed at his practical joke, then calmed down.

"You leavin' tomorrow. I'm gon' miss you, ya know?" he said and pat my head with his left hand.

"Yeah, I know. Whatchu gonna do afta I'm gone?"

"Ya know, same-o, same-o, goin' to school and helping my Pops with his store. I thought you woulda been goin' to college since you so smart."

"And learn the white man's culture? Tch, please. Overall, I ain't got nothin' against white folks, but some of 'em do crazy $#:+ that just makes ya angry, ya know? For example, in the mid-twentieth century, groups, called "Nativists", claimed that immigrants—the Irish in particular—shouldn't be on their land."

Camil gave me a confused stare, "Well…aren't they the Native Americans, just by another name?"

I frowned at him, "No. They are the white men, saying that it's their land. First of all, it's not their or our land, it's the Native Americans. They killed off 90% of those people's population, Camil! 90%!"

"Calm down, girl. Why you gettin' so angry?" he asked, wrapping his right arm around my left arm to calm me down.

"Because I feel for them, Camil. I feel for them, and the next target is us."

"Hm…I understand where ya comin' from, but didn't yo Mama tell you to "love the enemy, like the Lord said"?"

"I know that…Sometimes, I have to remind myself that there are just some bad apples in the barrel…the same goes for every other ethnicity, too; African Americans are no exception either."

"Agreed. Love the enemy…yeah, I'll love the enemy while beatin' the hell out of 'em if they provoke me."

"Camil!" I tried to scold him, but I ended up giggling and he laughed at me.

Suddenly, he pulled me close to him and he kissed my lips slowly; of course, I responded, but…

He leaned back from me, "…You know I love you...right?"

"Camil, we…we can't…Why last minute?"

"I couldn't seem to find a right time to tell you that I love you, Cassandra. You always saw me as a brotha, and I..can't say I always saw you as a sista. We met at 12…and I started seein' ya as a woman at 16."

"*Blush*…But what if I don't come back? Daddy has the promotion of a black person's life time for the Harlem Newspaper, and I don't want to break his heart by not being there to support him."

"I understand…Don't worry, Sandra...we gotta whole life ahead of us. That's enough time for me to convince you, and I refuse for anybody—don't give a damn about their color, ethnicity, or language—to come between that."

(Que Author-chan crying...)

He kissed me again and I kissed back with just as much effort as he put into it.

Camil leaned back, chuckling, "Have I already convinced ya?"

My cheeks turned red, "Sh-shut up."

"CASSANDRA! GIRL, GET HOME THIS INSTANT!" I heard my Mama yellin' down the hill.

Standing up, I looked back to only feel Camil hug me from behind, then kissed my right cheek.

"I hate to watch you leave, but I love to see you go," he said, then released me, and slapped my butt.

I turned around with a bright blush, "Camil!"

He bit his bottom lip, "Firm and tight, just the way I like," he rhymed.

"WHERE IS THAT GIRL, LAURENT?!"

"Bye, Camil! I'M ON MY WAY, MAMA!" I yelled while running down the hill.

 _~Tiny Time Skip~_

I made it in front of my home about three minutes later. My Mama―Serafine―was standing on the front porch, tapping her left foot on the wood while propping her hands on her hips, and a worried frown on her lips.

"Girl, where have you been? I told you to come home at 7:30PM! It's-"

"7:34 PM, Serafine. Calm down," My Daddy―Laurent―said, walking out on the porch while chucking.

She crossed her arms, "I don't give a damn if she four minutes late, Laurent! Anything out there could be happenin' to my po' baby."

Mama came down the porch's steps and hugged me. After a few seconds of coddling me, we walked back up the steps into our home, which Miranda―Mira for short―my sister, held open the screen door for us.

"But Mama, Sandra is nineteen now. She ain't no baby," Mira defended me.

Mama pouted, "...But she my baby, my youngest; I don't want her to grow up," she said with tears in her eyes.

"How come ya neva said that to me?" Mira asked.

"Because you were bad as hell in yo mid-teenage years, couldn't wait fo you to grow up," she said with a bit of a joking tone.

Daddy and I laughed at Mira while Mama chuckled.

"Now I know I wasn't that bad, Mama," Mira said with a straight face, then began laughing herself because she knew it was true.

Mama let go of me and pat my back, "Dinner's ready, Cassandra. Go wash up."

 _~Tiny Time Skip~_

It was silent for a while as we ate, that is, until...

"You didn't answer my question earlier, Cassandra. I know you went somewhere else afta goin' to the jazz club so...where ya went?" Mama asked me in suspicion of my whereabouts.

"I was just hangin' out with Camil on the hill is all, ya know, goodbyes and reflectin'."

"Camil, huh..." she said with a small smile.

Mira smirked, "Did y'all do anything else~?"

"Y'all betta not had or-" I cut Daddy off.

"Nah, it wasn't anything... _too_ like that..." I mumbled the rest.

"He tried to touch you without yo permission?" Mama asked me with her right eyebrow raised.

"No, Mama. And...what happened, happens, or will happen between me and Camil is none of y'all's business."

"I would scold ya, but you an adult of nineteen years old, so ain't nothin' I can say EXCEPT if he hurt ya, I'm goin' crazy on the boy," Daddy said with a serious smile.

Mama looked at Daddy quickly with expects of a scolding, "You just gon' let her-...*Sigh* Well, y'all have known each otha for a long time, and Camil did protect ya, like an older brother so...alright, I'll drop it, but if you ever need advice, I'm right here for ya, Cassandra," Mama said reassuringly.

"What about me, sweetie?" Daddy asked her

"When Mira was twelve and asked ya where do babies come from, you started stuttering like a phonus balonus."

Me, Mira, and Mama laughed mercilessly at the now stuttering Daddy, who tried to come up with a retort or explanation.

 _~Small Time Skip~_

I stared at the moon while laying in my bed.

'Tomorrow, we leavin'...I almost can't believe it. After Daddy gets settled in for a few years, I guess I'll leave Harlem and come back here. It makes me uncomfortable that I'll be recognized more in Harlem as a poetess and jazz singer...'

Who would've thought 19 would take a turn for the worse before it'll take a turn for better twenties...

(My inspiration for writing this is because I watched "The Hate U Give", listened to a poem by Jamila Lyiscott, listened to Childish Gambino's (Donald Glover) "This Is America", watched Jordan Peele's "GET OUT", Gerard McMurray's "The First Purge", Eddie Murphy's "Harlem Nights", and my study of U.S. History. Unfortunately, I couldn't find this under a particular category; misc. books is right because everything I listed is recorded into history.)


	2. The Big Apple

I opened my eyes.

Looking outside my window, I saw the sun rising, then sat up in bed.

'...Gotta look around and find a job quick; sad for a twenty year old woman to be-...'

A light gasp left my lips and my eyes grew bigger, I realized something I forgot...

 _March 20, 1920_

"Today's my birthday."

Although, I wasn't too happy about it like I thought I'd be.

Getting up from my bed, I went in the hallway to the bathroom to brush my teeth, wash my face, and brush my hair, then I went back to my room, got dressed, and headed downstairs to the door.

(Due to issues of saving the link altogrther, I spaced it out. Scroll down to the second picture―minus the fedora:

https / / web - pants wp - content / uploads / parser /1920s - womens - pants - suit - 1 . jpg)

I'm not the type to wear those flashy dresses or short skirts, like..."Flappers", I believe is what they're called. Sure, I dance to jazz, but I don't smoke, don't wear makeup, but I sure as hell speak _my_ own language.

"You're gonna go without saying good morning or eating some breakfast?" I heard my Aunt Lillian ask.

"Though this is my second day here in Harlem, I can find a nearby diner. I'll be back," I said before closing the door behind me.

 _~Tiny Time Skip~_

There's been a change of plans since I arrived in Harlem.

My Aunt Lillian is the sister of Daddy; currently, we're staying with her until our own house is done being redesigned.

I'm out right now looking for a job. I lied about eating breakfast at a diner, I don't have much of an appetite ever since...Another story for another time.

'A job?' you're wondering. Well, of course, I wouldn't dare grow up to be a person who didn't work for their own. In New Orleans, I worked part-time at Camil's Father's store since fourteen years old.

Also, I've been saving up my part-time and take-on overtime money to buy my own home in New Orleans; it doesn't have to be the best, just livable enough to where I can manage. For the time being, I'll rent an apartment once I have enough from whatever job I get now.

I learned that in northern states, people speak 'correctly' and their words 'fully'. Luckily, Mama home-schooled me and Miranda to speak like a northerner in case of a situation...which isn't legal...nor is it illegal...

'Who would care? Especially not white fol-'

Pain is what I felt in my heart, I shook the thought away and kept walking.

Seeing a nearby bookstore, I looked at the sign.

" _Bronx Books Bistro_ "

'So I'm in the Bronx...I wish I'd stop my dazing and realize my surrounding before something bad happens to me...'

Approaching the window, I saw a white sign on the windowsill that said "Help Wanted - Blacks & Whites". This really did surprise me...but since this is the north-no, since the Bronx is similar to Harlem, I shouldn't be.

I have yet to come face to face with a "Whites Only" sign; though, it's unlikely unless I'm in a certain part of Brooklyn or New York City.

Entering the store, I felt stares, but I ignored them as I approached the counter.

Before I could say anything to the man wiping a coffee cup with a washcloth, I heard a shriek of surprise.

Looking to my right, I saw man at most an inch shorter than me

" _Perfetto_! You, my dear, are a real beauty! God has sent me an angel in my time of need! _Grazie_!"

(Perfetto means "perfect" and grazie means "thank you" in Italian.)

"Um, sir?" I asked as I put my hands on my waist.

"Yes, _bella_?"

(Bella means "beautiful" in Italian.)

"Who are you and what do you mean by God has sent you an angel?"

"Well, I am a little down on business, and I need more employees. Apparently, you happen to walk through the door few minutes after my best employee left."

"...Are you saying I'm hired already?"

"Just a few questions. What is your name?" he asked.

"Cassandra LaFleur, Mister...?"

"Roberto Gianni, but you can just call me Roberto, _tesoro._ How old are you?"

(Teroso means "sweetheart" in Italian.)

"Today's my twentieth birthday," I told him.

" _Ancora meglio_ ~. Can you make coffee, tea, sweets, and lunch-related meals?"

("Even better~...")

"Yes."

"Are your-...well, quelle tette bellissime non sono difficili da perdere, anche sesono coperti~."

("...those gorgeous boobies aren't hard to miss even if they're covered.")

"I'm sorry; could you repeat that?"

"Eh?! You can understand me?!" he asked in a panic.

"I'm a Creole from New Orleans, Louisiana. I speak French and English; I'm assuming you speak Italian since you do look like an Italian, so I can understand a bit of what you're saying because Italian and French are Romantic languages."

"...Ravishing, smart, and French, mi piace," he spoke with a flirtatious smirk.

("...I likey...")

"Sir, are you trying to flirt with me?"

"How can I not resist such a bodacious woman? But...that is for outside of work; anyway, last question, Miss LaFleur. For two and a half hours, do you mind being..scantily clothed?"

I slowly lifted my right eyebrow. " _Excusez-moi_?"

 _~Small Time Skip~_

I sighed as I walked out the cafe.

'Seriously...I can't believe I signed up for such a thang.' I looked up towards the sky, "Ya know I did it fo a good cause."

My eyes look back in front of me, 'There's no way I'd agree sign up to be a scantily clothed entrepreneur without good pay for two and a half hours, then resume regular work inside; at least I'm not a Flapper...'

While I was wallowing in my blues about the job I accepted, I accidentally bumped into someone, and papers went flying everywhere on the sidewalk.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Let me help you!" I said in a panic as I crouched and tried to pick up every piece.

"Ah, no, it's okay. I can hand-…le…it..my…self…"

After collecting nearly all of the papers, I looked up to meet green eyes.

Our lips nearly met, and our noses brushed against each other.

"Oh..." is all I said due to my shock at how captivating those eyes are.

"What mesmerizing...eyes you have, Miss...?" a masculine voice complimented me...and gestured to know my name.

Taking in everything else of this man's face, then his body and attire, I came to the realization that this man is...

White.

Pushing myself away from the white man, I scrambled up to my feet with his papers in both hands.

"Are you okay, Miss?" he asked me, still wide-eyed.

"Y-yes, I'm fine! Here!" I said and shoved the papers in front of his face.

He slowly grabbed the papers, still staring at my face, which made me highly uncomfortable.

'This man may be nice and handsome, but he's white. He's staring too intently at me. Daddy said not to make eye contact with white folks too much until we get a feel of the environment...so why can't I look away from his eyes?'

As soon as he slid the papers out of my hand, I turned around and tried to run away, but he caught my right hand.

By now, we were causing a bit of a scene.

"Wait a minute, what's your-"

"Please, don't hurt me!"

A few seconds of murmurs went by before I felt my hand being released and I ran the direction I came from, remembering the scenes of December 31, 1919...

'...How could a ethnicity bring another ethnicity here for labor..knowing that the end of slavery was inevitable deep in their guts, and that they would spread hate to the people their ancestors brought...I want to believe humans are the real monsters, but...that's so hard to do when there's racism, poverty, prejudice, and war in―not only a country―but the world..'

I slowed down in my pace, somehow unintentionally making a rhythmic beat with my heels.

"Ya see my sista, we are sistas from another motha, from anotha country, from anotha continent. The white man took all we ha_d..but they ain't took our ja_zz~," I said, swinging my hips to the right and moving them in a circular motion.

A small laugh left my lips.

"Hah! Nah! Uh-uh! We, the black, the AfriCAN American, the negros—as they say in 'their' language—we, my brothas and sistas, are empowered by Mother Natcha, Afrikaa. Not 'Africa', 'Afrikaa'. You know her beauty, you know her style, you know how..she can get all wild~," I mused while swinging my hips left and right as I lowered to the ground.

Standing up normally, I glanced around to see if anyone was in my field of vision.

Since I was in an alleyway at 5 PM, I didn't see nor hear much, so I continued with my...poetic song.

"Defend her honor, protect her pride, know white lies, to deceive us, and leave us, yet conceive us, in this Hell, because we know, this $#;+ just ain't right."

Relaxing after speaking a poem that I just winged and can't wait to get home to write in my journal, I heard clapping behind me, which made me gasp.

Turning around, I saw two white men approaching me...The grins on their faces told me they weren't friendly.

"Look at this here, Jack. We got ourselves a negro woman with power in her voice."

"She thinks that she gets freedom of speech just because of the first amendment? You're tooting your horn too much, lady. That amendment is for **us**."

Turning away from them, I tried to walk away, but one of them moved in front of me and the other, who I assumed is 'Jack', held me in place by holding my hands in place behind my back.

"Would you kindly refrain from touching me, Misters?" I asked nicely.

"Shut it up. Teach her a lesson~, Roy," Jack said.

"Since that voice is so full power, let's see if it has the power for anything else," the man, named Roy, spoke while sliding his hands up my hips to my waist.

"Get your han-"

"One, it's inappropriate to intimately touch a young lady you don't know; two, I thought her poem was eccentric; three, Force Bill Act of '70 and '71, boys; four...get your damn hands off of her before we start some trouble," a familiar voice spoke.

The two men let go of me, grumbling as they brushed pass me.

Looking forward, I saw the man from before. Alarm bells went off in my head, and told me to thank him, then run.

"Are you alright, Miss?" he asked me, suddenly appearing in front of me.

I gasped and looked up at him, "...I...I-I'm fine. Thank you, sir. Now I must be on my way," I said, then tried to go around him, but he moved in my way.

"Let me at least catch us a cab. I don't want those creeps coming back to hurt you or anything," he said with concern swirling in his eyes.

"Sir, I know you're trying to be nice, but-"

"Please, Miss," he begged and grabbed my shoulders.

'Why does he stare at me with such eyes? Why does he care? If I tell him where I live, he might try to-no...stop it, Cassandra. This man only wants to help...'

"...If you're going to beg me, I guess I have no choice in order for you to stop," I replied, averting my eyes from his.

 _~Tiny Time Skip~_

We sat in the taxi in silence.

'This man won't—no..CAN'T keep his eyes off me! It's makin' me uncomfortable. Why does he keep starin'? Is he plottin' somethin' bad, or is he lookin' at me with the same intention, with the same eyes, like those men didn't try to hide?'

Taking a glance at his reflection in my window, I saw that he was staring at my eyes in the reflection of the window.

"You know, you were about to wonder into the bad parts of Brooklyn back there, right?"

"Now I know where not to go, thank you," I replied quickly.

Focusing back on the life outside the car, I hid my embarrassment with a stoic expression.

'No, those ain't the same eyes…The eyes he's staring with at me..it's not to touch me inappropriately, it's not with disgust, it's not with segregation—besides, he way too close—it's with something that makes me afraid to open up to afta what I've seen gettin' here to Harlem.

I noticed the car stopped and he had gotten out to open up my door, but I did it myself and stepped out.

"Thank you, but no thank you, sir. I can handle myself."

I walked up the steps to the large apartment building. I didn't turn back to say goodbye to the white man, I sought no reason to.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

"Don't you dare call me Miss. Sir, you'd be looked at differently if you did."

"Then…may I know your name?"

There was silence in the heat of the night as I hesitated to make a choice.

'What if this white man comes back to ask for something in return? What if it put me in danger or my family? What if someone blackmailed him—like those men—to tell them my name?'

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone of our encounter nor the events that happened," he said as if trying to reassure me.

I turned around, glancing between him and the lights on in my home, "…Cassandra…"

A wave of relief washed over his face and he smiled. "Cassandra…what a unique name, it tells me a lot about you..and your…stress relief speech earlier today."

I felt my cheeks become warm and I flinched, "Disregard that, Mister-"

"Jesse Ackermann."

(Anime watchers, I know what you're thinking. ;D)

"Mister Ackerma-"

"Just Jesse… _Cassandra_."

"Yes, yes. May I go inside now? I'm sure if my family saw you on this lawn, they'd-"

 _-Ka-chack-_

"Well, Auntie, I'll go look fo Sandra! She betta not be out there gettin' herse-."

Miranda turned around to see me.

"Oh, thank goodness you alright, lil' sista! Ya know it's dangerous at night, even if we do live in Ha-"

She turned more to see Mister Ackermann staring and blinking wide-eyed at her.

"…Um, Sandra…who this white man?" she asked me, keeping her eyes on him.

Mister Ackermaan recovered from his shock. He smiled at her, "Hello there. My name is-"

"No one…he's no one, sista. Let's go inside."

She opened the door, nodding and walking backwards, "Yeah, yeah…befo Daddy come out here with his shotgun…"

I pushed her inside, then turned back briefly, "Don't take her seriously, Mister Ackermann, and have a good night!" I yelled, then walked inside, closed the door, and locked it.

"You got some explaining to do, young lady. Whatchu doin' out there with that man?"

"Nothin' bad happened, Miranda. Drop it."

"Oh, somethin' good happened is what you implyin'? Tch, Cassandra, you know that them people ain't right. They steal from us, they kill us, they rape us, they beat us. Do you not remember what happened to Mama?"

"Miranda. Stop. I don't want to hear it. I just want to go lay down."

She grabbed me by my collar, "You need to take this seriously!"

"I know that! Now, let me-"

"What's goin' on here?" Daddy asked us, walking downstairs.

I pushed away from Miranda, "Nothin's goin' on, Daddy. Mira was just worried about me is all. I'm tired from today, I'm gonna go take a shower and sleep."

Aunt Lillian came around the corner. "No eating dinner? Sandra, I'm not allowin' you to-"

"It's okay, Auntie." I walked upstairs, sparing a glare at Mira before looking back at our Auntie and Uncle. "I'll be fine. Good night."

 _~Small Time Skip~_

Take a shower, I did; go to sleep, I can't.

Turning in my bed, I thought of that white man..what's his name? Ace? Acker? Adam's Apple?

I giggled at my alliteration. 'Oh..now I rememba.'

Jesse Ackermann.

My eyes widened in realization as I sat up in my bed.

'He gave me his full name. Why would he do that?...Knowing his color, it's to make me have hope of charging him if he were to do something bad to me in the future , and in the end, for whatever he does to me, his color would still win.'

I got out of my bed and went to my window, staring at the night lights of Harlem.

You're probably wonderin' how I ended up here without Mama, why I'm not jazzin' it up, like I did in in New Orleans…You wanna know why?

It refers back to that story that I said I'd tell fo anotha time...

On my way here to Harlem with my family, my Mama risked her life for me and my sister.

She was lynched…

In a bright color, it's a normal piece of fruit, but in a dark color, it's a strange piece of fruit.

("Strange Fruit" by Billie Holiday reference.)

To me…that was my Mother.

On our way here to Harlem in December 31, 1919, we had to go through Mississippi…After we got off the bus and traveled a couple miles to get to the next one, my Mama's foot was caught up in a trap, and she hung from a tree by her ankle…

My Daddy and sister—who's five years older than me—tried to get her down, but then…

I saw something in the distance underneath a street light, it wore white…as if it was dressed up as a ghost.

Fear pumped through my veins as those blue eyes stared at me.

I notified my Daddy by calling him out and he looked down the street…to see more of those ghost-like creatures approachin' us.

My Mother somehow knew we were in danger and she told us to run. Mother's intuition? I don't know…

I ran up to my Mama, wanting to help her along with my sista, and we began to cry as soon as she did so, smiling, and told us she'll love us.

She'll love us…

She'll…She will…That's a future tense…I knew that meant eternal sleep...

...And she won't make it to the New Year with us...

The last thing I remember was our Daddy carrying us on his shoulders, and our bags in his hands, and my Mother being cut down…only to be beaten, then hung back up…

But by the neck.

Blinking my eyes, I returned staring above Harlem, New York in March 2020.

I had accidentally fallen asleep into my worst nightmare, the KKK.

"…Revenge won't bring her back. As much as I hate them and feel uncomfortable around white folk afta witnessin' that, I won't desire for revenge. The only thing that's gonna quench it and make me get along with them is time; yeah..time is what I need…"

(Ugh, so much emotion in this. Despite the triggering feelings, I feel satisfied with this chapter. It's now 1 AM and I shall go to sleep...but sleep is overrated when you're on Winter Break! XD)


	3. Small World?

(Type "MFrannie Womens Stripes Blouse Pants Vest 3-Pieces Office Lady Work Suit Set" and click on the first link; this is what she's wearing.)

 _January 20, 1921_

I sat in the "Colored Library", reading a World History book about different controls other than Creole and American.

So far, I've read about the Arabians, Aztecs, Egyptians, Ethiopians, French, Greeks, Hungarians, Igbo, Incas, Indians, Italians, Mayans, Persians, Scandinavia, and Turkey.

'Oh, wow...I had no idea...Harlem was named after a Dutch village called 'Haarlem' and Jews inhabited the village as well as Amsterdam, the capital of Netherlands. In parts like those, there was autonomy.' I smiled, '...Interesting, no wonder why Harlem is the way it is; Mama was right about―not only the French being nice and inter-marrying―but the Dutch, too. This is nice knowledge, I wouldn't have learned this if I attended school.'

How could a black read so much about 14 cultures in..two hours? Miranda and I was home schooled by my Mama. Miranda and I learned the "appropriate" learning from our Mama and the "inappropriate what-to-do and what-not-to-do bullshit" from our Daddy.

I chuckled quietly, "I can't believe he named it that…Mama scolded him from cussin' in front of us."

"Excuse me."

I looked up to see a woman with a smile on her face, "Are you new here in Brooklyn?"

"I'm new to here and Harlem, where I live."

"Ah, I see. The safe part. Anyway, I came to ask if you wanted to check out that book? You seem awfully entranced with it."

"Oh, I don't have any money to pay for a library ca-"

"Don't worry, I got you," she said with a smile.

I looked at her held out hand, then gave the book to her, and she walked back to her receptionist desk.

'I guess there is courtesy in Brooklyn…'

Looking outside the window at the blue sky, I saw a bird flying.

A smirk appeared on my lips…

"I's a black bird, one that soars and flies in the night sky. Night is my realm, my haven, where I know no one can find I, the raven."

"Oh my, a poetess," I heard the woman say next to me.

Turning back around, she handed me the book and a library card.

"Here you are, your password is BWHB," she said as I grabbed the book and card.

"BWHB?"

"Black World History Buff," she said with a smile.

We laughed together quietly; suddenly, she stopped laughing as if remembering something...

"Um..ma'am, I almost forgot to tell you, but…there's a man standing in front of the library, waiting for you."

"Well…why not let him in? He might be my Father."

She bend down to my right ear, "He said he would probably make you feel uncomfortable by approaching you when there's a lot of _us_ in here," she whispered.

She slid to the side and nod her head towards the door. I looked from her to the door…

…He smiled and waved at me…

Getting up quickly, I gave the woman an apologetic smile before walking to the door.

I pushed it open, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was here doing some research in the library, and when I walked out, I saw you in there. I knocked on the window to get the librarian's attention and told her to get you."

"Mister Ackermann, you must understand that I-"

(Jesse Ackermann: h, t, t, p, s : / / pbs . twimg . ("com") / media / DkP 9 LyvV 4 AAyxE 6 . jpg)

"Jesse."

"…I…I-I won't call you that, sir."

"What would it take for me to get you to call me that?"

I looked up at him with fire in my eyes, "Abuse me all you want to, but I won't call you by your first name."

He recoiled a bit. "…You think I'll abuse you just to get you to call me by my first name? *Sigh* One, that's not gentlemanly; two, I would never hurt a woman intentionally; three, I keep pursuing you because I want to get to know you," he said the last sentence with pleading eyes.

A quiet gasp slipped pass my lips.

"I have no other intentions of harming you whatsoever; please, believe me, Cassandra."

"…Give me some time," I said before walking down the stairs to the library.

 _~Tiny Time Skip~_

Walkin' down the street, I didn't see much activity except for kids playin' around and grownups watchin' them.

As soon as I saw a group of white women walking my way, I looked down and continued walking.

"Is that the _other_ new girl?"

"Yeah, yeah..but she looks different. I've never seen a negro woman like her."

"What eccentric hair and eyes…"

I thought they passed by me, but when I looked up, I saw the two white women staring at me intently.

Taking a step back, a surprised squeak left my lips.

"Woah, woah! Calm down, lady."

"How could I remain calm if you're this close to me?!"

A third..seemingly white woman with golden blond stood in front of me. I couldn't tell what she is..her skin is tan, or olive...?

"Leave her alone, girls. She's obviously uncomfortable. Respect her space."

"Why should we respect a negro's space, sis?" one with yellow blond hair asked.

"She has a point, they're poor, can't read, nor write properly. It's no wonder why Father kicked you out at twenty for dating a Puerto Rican," the other one with auburn blond hair snickered.

I saw anger flash in this woman's eyes..from what I could see, and she raised her hand to slap one of them…if not both, but I stepped in front of her.

I let myself show my true colors.

Y'all sistas. Ya should be back to back, don't talk smack, that'll only end up in all wack."

"…What?" the one with auburn hair asked.

"Get. Along," I said clearly.

"Oh? And what would you do if we don't?" the one with yellow blond hair said in a arrogant tone.

"Well, that's not my problem. It 's not my fault if you get attacked by an angry mob of blacks and you're never able to apologize to her when you're dead and gone. Karma is a 6;+c#," I said cruelly as I walked pass them to go elsewhere.

 _~Tiny Time Skip~_

Continuing my walk, I noticed I was receiving some odd stares. Looking for a particular sign, I finally found that read "New York City"

'Damn, I must've been so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't realize I came here..and the sun is beginning to set, I gotta get back to Harlem.'

"I don't usually look at negro women, but she is a looker."

I ignored the whispers of the men—both black and white—who stared me down, like dogs.

"Hey, lady!" I heard someone call and I looked to the other side of the street...

It was a bunch of men yelling for me to come over, seemingly drunk, and whistling at me.

I nervously shook my head as a way of saying "no, thank you", then returned heading down a street to get back to Harlem.

'Men...I am 20, I'll be 21 in 2 months...so why not have a little bit of fun?'

Turning towards the street while still walking, I was about to cross it, but a hand pulled me back by my waist.

"Well, well~. What do we have here~," a man whispered in my left ear.

I turned around in this man's grasp, glaring at him, then pushed away from him.

He was about 5 foot 10, wore a shiny purple suit with dress shoes

"Excuse you. That is no way to handle a lady. If you wanted my attention, you could've politely gotten it. Now, what do you want, sir?"

He circled around me, "Mm, mm, mph! What a sweet thing like you walking out here? Where's your pimp, girl?"

"Pimp...? I'm sorry, sir, but I am not a prostitute," I said harshly, then turned my back on him.

"Oh? Let me guess...an independent woman of 20 to 22...appears to be a calm New York black, but has soul and spice deep down...independent and hard-working, and...scared of something or someone..."

Turning away from him, I felt like he could read me. 'Is he a pimp or fortune teller?'

Feeling arms wrap around my waist, I felt his breath on the left side of my neck.

"How about I let ya get those worries off ya shoulders, honey~?"

I shrugged him off, then took a step forward.

"Becoming a prostitute will not take my mind off all my troubles. It would be nice to make extra money, but the pay my boss gives me is good enough."

Walking off, I heard the man chuckle to which I ignored.

'Now I can't remember where I was going...damn it. It's best if I just go back to Harlem. I not too long ago got informa—142nd Street and Lenox Avenue in Harlem is where the Cotton Club is! That's it!' I took off in a sprint back to Harlem.

 _~Tiny Time Skip~_

Turning on the corner of Lenox Avenue, I saw the most beautiful club I ever saw as long as I've been in the north. I fished for the silver pocket watch my Mama gave me, that was given to her by her Daddy. The time was 2 PM.

'Well, it's a early. I rather go at night. I'll come back around and-'

"Cassandra?" I heard my Daddy's voice call.

Lookin' to my left, I saw him gettin' out of a taxi, lookin' flashy in his long black coat, gray business suit, and gray-black fedora.

He ran up to me, "What you doin' here?"

I looked back at the club, "I was just explorin', Daddy. I had a few interesting and displeasing encounters along the way though. Apparently, I dun founda new club," I said as a smile slowly appeared on my lips.

He sighed, then took off his fedora, and chuckled. "You know yo Mama would try to do everythang in her power to stop you from comin' here, but...since my little girl is passionate 'bout poetry and jazz, I'll let ya go."

I hugged him, "Thank you, Daddy!" I pulled away from him, "So, how was work?"

"Well, I'm on lunch break right now with one of the managers, and.." he sighed, "works goin' good, but the reports I write is...Sweetheart, just be careful. We may live in Harlem, but ya can neva be too careful."

"I understand, Da-"

"Mr. LaFleur, is something the ma-"

Yet again...aquamarine met emerald.

"You..." I said in an unintentional whimper.

Mister Ackerman smiled, "Hello, Cassandra."

I noticed Daddy lift up his left eyebrow in question. "Mr. Jesse, may I ask how you know her?"

"I'm confused on what you mean, sir..and I sense you as well as Cassandra are as well. I'll explain over dinner."

"I accept!" he was quick to agree.

"B-but-"

"Cassandra, you know this is a rare opportunity for our kind, just accept," Daddy had leaned down and whispered.

With all reluctance, I glanced up at the smiling Mister Ackermann and nodded in agreement.

"Excellent! Since we're here, how about the Cotton Club?"

I gulped, '$#;+...'

 _~Tiny Time Skip~_

We were sat down in a booth away from the small crowd of people, mostly whites, few groups of blacks.

I stared at the jazz band, listening to what I could of their music while eating a medium sized bowl of Alfredo fettuccine...

"Cassandra!" I heard my Daddy whisper-shout.

Looking at him, he quickly glanced to Mister Ackermann.

"Yes, sir?"

He moved his gaze from me to the band, then back at me.

"You like jazz?" he asked with a small smile,

"I-" Daddy cut me off.

"She loves it!"

"Daddy!" I yelled at him in a scolding tone.

"Daddy?...Mr. LaFleur, Cassandra is your daughter?" Mister Ackermann asked.

"Yes, sir. She's my youngest though. My oldest is named Miranda."

"I see...Cassandra, I don't know if you know this, but I'm the Business Manager of the Wall Street Journal. I manage the money of the newspaper, including marketing, salaries, and overall budget."

"Basically, my boss," Daddy summarized.

My eyes slowly widened when he said that.

'B-...boss...'

I bowed my head, "Forgive me of my rude behavior, sir. I hadn't any idea of this. Please, don't let my Father go because of the way I treated you earlier, and that time before..."

"So you've met twice?" Daddy asked me.

"Three times, Mr. LaFleur. The first was when she accidentally bumped into me nearly a year ago; some low lives were trying to commit a disgusting act—luckily, I followed her to thank her for helping me pick up my business papers as well as know her name—but I stopped them, the second was earlier today, and the third happened to be a few minutes ago," he said to him, then looked back at me. "I won't do such a thing, calm down."

"You won't?" I asked in hope as I looked up.

"Mr. LaFleur has been performing a great job; I'll have to raise his salary."

"I am grateful, Mr. Jesse...um, sir, if you don't mind me asking, why would you want to know my daughter's name?"

"Before I reply, just call me Jesse, Mr. LaFleur; we are outside of work after all. You and your daughter have a stubborn ways of not doing that," he said as he raised his glass of ice and water to his lips. Before he took a sip, he glanced at us, "I wonder if it's because of my skin color..." he finished, then sipped his water.

Both my Father and I remained quiet; the tension could be felt in the area we're sitting in.

"Don't take me so seriously," he chuckled. "Anyway, about your question earlier..." Mister Ackermann moved his gaze back to me, "I've never seen _any_ woman with that alluring hair color or pristine eye color. I just had to get to know her..."

"Alluring and pristine, huh?" Daddy said in a wavering tone.

I stood up, placing my hands on the table.

"Mister Ackermann," I said in a deep tone and he looked at me, "I appreciate that you are interested in me, but..won't the public be concerned with you being around a black woman? Since you're a business manager, you'll receive plenty of recognition for that, and I don't want to damage your ca-"

He closed his eyes with a slight frown on his lips, "I'll handle that, Cassandra. You needn't worry about that. Now..it's only been since this morning when you told me you'll think about it, and that's not enough time, so I'll give you-...

I blocked out his words and glanced at Daddy to see he was staring at Mister Ackermann sternly.

'...I'll go along with it for you...if it gets you higher pay and a promotion, I'll do it...'

"No...I had enough time, and I..don't mind you..getting to know me..sir."

Silence overclouded the atmosphere...

Mister Ackermann's eyes narrowed.

"I do not mean to be rude, but...I know those eyes anywhere, Cassandra."

I sat down with a suspicious look on my face, "What do you mean, sir?"

He let out a non-comedic chuckle, "You think it took my skin color, education, and looks just to get this far in life, don't you? Please, be honest."

"...Y-yes."

"You seem like a knowledgeable woman, Cassandra, so I'll ask this...are you aware of what a Jew looks like?"

His question confused me. 'A Jew? Why would he ask such a question? I understand they've been discriminated against since Exodus, just like bla-...'

I took a better look at his nose and shade of skin...

A gasp left my mouth.

"M-Mister Ackerma-mann, I-I'm so s-sorry! I-I didn't me-an to-"

"You needn't apologize, nor you, Mr. LaFleur," Mister Ackermann told us. "That look in your eyes is desperation for survival, willing to do anything for your family. I understand that feeling. Thanks to this title, no one, not even KKK, would suspect I'm a Jew unless that person observes well or I say so."

"If I may ask, how did you get from Europe to here?" Daddy asked.

"It wasn't easy...I originally lived in the Netherlands, and was visiting Germany on June 1914. At the time, I was 16 years old. Since the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, I was suspected and persecuted by both Russians and Germans due to the thought of working with the enemy. My family migrated back to the Netherlands on August 1914. A few weeks later, we found out it wasn't too safe to stay there, so with the good bit of money left, we migrated to London, England on February 1915. It did take a long, terrifying time to get there, never knowing if a shell bomb was gonna drop on us. The newspapers there informed us about America staying neutral. I was selfish at the time..i didn't give a damn about neutrality, I gave a damn about getting here and America joining the war, giving England and France a better chance at winning."

"You never once thought about facing discrimination from certain racist groups?" Daddy asked another question.

"...I did. But I thought if I moved to a good city in the North, I won't have to face much. My family, consisting of my Father, Mother, and sister, moved here in 1917. 'I'll be damn, the time America joins, I get drafted for the Army, ain't that some $#;+?' is what I thought a month after we settled down in Harlem. I went ahead and fought, going from Warrant Officer to First Lieutenant, then I came back here. I'll be damn if another war starts and the military tells me I have to go back.." he took a sip of his water, "They can kiss my a$$."

I held back a laugh, smiling slightly instead, but Daddy just let out small chuckles.

"In reality...nowhere you go in this world is truly safe," he said, then stood up. "Look at the time, 3:30 PM, I have to get back to the company. Mr. LaFleur, you can go home for today. It was..nice? having lunch with you, and Cassandra..." he pulled out a gold and black pen, and a small white card from his right breast pocket, then scribbled something on it, handing it to me next. "Good day to you both. The lunch is on me."

I grasped it, studying what he had written.

'I can't believe this man was bold enough to give me his number right in front of my own Father.'

"So...what'cha think of 'im?" Daddy asked before taking a bite of his Egg Foo Yung.

"You should know what I thought of him 'cause I based his personality off his skin cula, Daddy," I said to him in a disappointed tone. "But now..now that I know he was a survivor and still tryna survive like us...Ion know what to think of 'im, not until I get to know 'im betta."

In our silence, we finished our food. Afterwards, Daddy went to a telephone to call a taxi. I remained seated, enjoying the jazz.

'I judged someone because of their skin color...that makes me feel so..just not right. It makes me feel..racist. Of course, it was unintentional, and all humans do—somewhere in their life time—judge, but I am in the wrong. I really do have to make this up to that man...'

I sipped the last bit of apple juice in my glass, letting a sullen expression appear on my face...

I nearly choked on one of the ice cubes as my eyes widened.

'Unless he was trying to make me feel guilty, and trick me into-...*sigh* stop making excuses, Sandra, and meet up with this man. Besides, he doesn't seem the type to do that..'

"Thank God black women can sense bull$#;+ in the blink of an eye.." I mumbled after I heard Daddy call me.

 _~Small Time Skip~_

When we got home, Daddy went ahead inside, but I decided to sit on the steps.

'Jesse Ackerman, age: I estimate to..19 in 1917...seemingly 2 years older...birthday unknown...22 years old maybe? So..probably born in 1888?; Jewish; a business manager of the most famous newspaper in New York and throughout the country, Wall Street Journal; personality: around me, eager, nice, determined, around Daddy, formal, respective. What man interested in a Father's daughter wouldn't be f-'

My eyes slowly widened..and I could feel my cheeks warm up.

"I-Interested?! D-Did I seriously just think dat?! Wait..he called my eye color pristine, and my hair alluring! S-so does that mean he is interested? L-like romantically? Impossible..I won't believe it until he says so himself, and clearly, too!" I rambled to myself.

"Sandra? What'chu talkin' 'bout, gurl?" I heard Mira's voice.

She was walkin' towards me with some clothes in clear plastic over her right arm. 2 months ago, Miranda started work at a department store called "Classy Dreaming" in Manhattan. By the sound of it, you can tell the owner of the store took the word classy, and turned it as well as clothes into something Flapper-ish.

"O-oh..it's nothing too important, Mira. So..how was work?"

"That lady had us workin' since 10 AM, gurl! We had no lunch breaks this either!"

I put on a uninterested look, "New trending dress?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Oh, yeah! I brought you home a new outfit, and I promise it ain't Flapper-ish," she said with a wide smile and closed eyes.

"Thanks," I thanked her as I took a quick look at the outfit, then noticed someone behind her. "Not only did ya buy me a new outfit..but you brought someone along.."

She turned around and beckoned the woman forward. "That's my new friend, Sandra. Her name is-"

"You!" we both shouted out of surprise.

It was the woman that defended me from her "sisters"―if you can even call them that for the way treated her―earlier.

"You know my lil' sista?" Mira asked her.

"Yeah, this was the girl I was telling you about today at work...What's her name?"

"Cassandra," I said before my sista spoke.

"Cassandra?..With a K?"

"No, with a C."

"Ya know, C or K...(Κασσάνδρα) means "she who entangles men" in Greek. In Greek mythology, Κασσάνδρα or Kassandra is the name of King Priam's daughter to whom Apollo gave the gift of foresight then later caused her prophecies to be ignored because she refused his advances. "

"I do know that, and I haven't understood why my Motha named me that..."

"Ya have a secret lova Ion know about, Sandra?" Mira asked me with lifted eyebrows and a smirk on her lips.

"Go ahead and get that thought out'cha mind," I spoke in a bored tone.

The golden blond woman giggled at us. "Hehe..anyway, my name is Nyx Nicoli. I'm Greek by the way, as well as a refugee due to the war. Do forgive my sisters earlier, Miss Cassandra."

(Nyx Nicoli: h, t, t, p, s : / / i . pinimg . ("com") / originals / b5 / b1 / b7 / b5 b1 b7 bf 28638 a 75 b05 e 82 f 50 124 a 62 b . jpg)

I narrowed my eyes and frowned at 'er. "You call dem sistas? Please. They obviously don't like ya..I can tell. Ya pigment in skin is olive; ain't no way you related to them by blood...unless ya gotta different Mama o' Daddy...And I think ya do by that expression on ya face. Stop lyin' to yoself and leave them behind, Miss Nxy. Ain't no need fo family like that if they ain't gonna support ya for datin' a guy of different ethnicity," I explained, then stood, and turned to walk up the rest of the steps to go inside.

"Cassandra! Don't talk to 'er like that! You gt back 'ere and apolo―I'm so sorry about that," Mira tried to scold me.

"No, no. It's alright, Miranda," I heard Miss Nyx say.

I stopped before entering through the door. "By the way, Miss Nyx...I don't believe in " **races** ", I believe in " **ethnicity** "."

With that being said, I walked in and slammed the door...I hadn't realize I was angry...

'She remind me a lil' too much of me and Mira when we first got here...'

(Yes! I got a chapter out in February! Not to be rude, but in case you didn't know, February is a celebration for Black History Month in America. I didn't update all February is because I am very busy with school. I didn't realize how close standardized testing to enter college was! Let me not ramble on to you about my non-existent life. I hope more people get to read this book. I say it's in my..top 5 of _my_ favorite books, somewhere...)


	4. Our Own Monochrome

No other time I woulda done this...the get-up, the hairstyle, the jewelry, the makeup...

(Her **dress** : h, t, t, p, s : / / grace ys costumes . co . nz / site / file / post / lH4 QX6 T8 / sml-light-blue . jpg

She wears the earrings and necklace in the middle. **Jewelry** : h, t, t, p : / / www . beaches living . ca / beaches life / wp-content / uploads / 2013 / 07 / Great-Gatsby-Jewelry- . jpg

 **Makeup** : h, t, t, p, s : / / i . pin img . ("com") / originals / c4 / 01 / 81 / c40 181 022 0db 0eb a31 ea7 f18 f57 fa9 c8 . jpg)

But if there's still a chance of bribin' through this mess, I sure as hell did take the chance.

Because I didn't have short hair, Mira couldn't put my hair in the style of the Flappers... _Mèsi bondjé_. She jus' bumped and curled the ends inward.

(Mèsi bondjé means "Thank God" in Creole.)

I sat in the booth across from the man, who practically begged me to go on a date with 'im.

"I'm glad you're here, Cassandra."

A tiny attempt of a smile made it on my lips, "I just..couldn't deny you inviting me to the Cotton Club again."

He leaned forward on the table, fingers entangled, keepin' his eyes on me.

"I noticed you like the atmosphere of certain places. You have two sides, a yin and a yang. During the day, you like tranquility, quiet, work at a conference cafe, maybe take a walk in Central Park-"

"Black people aren't allowed in Central Park," I cut 'im off, then narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "How the hell do you know I work at a cafe?"

"Huh?...Oh! Don't think I'm a stalker or anything, but I come in that cafe every Monday to Thursday—even before you came to Harlem. Mister Gianni and I know each other well because I advertised his shop in the newspapers."

"I see...so you just.. _observe_ me from far away, sir?"

He chuckled, "You may call me a secret admirer, observing from afar. I didn't want to interrupt your work space."

I leaned back in the booth, lettin' outta mixed chuckle and "hmph".

"Thank you for respecting that."

"Yes, I finally got a smile on that face," he calmly cheered.

To amuse 'im mo', my barely visible smile turned inta quiet giggles.

I didn't agree to this jus' 'cause he was aggravatin' me, I agreed because I knew he has the power to get Daddy anotha promotion.

Who says a black person can't think for themself?

"Your giggles are cute...something I wouldn't mind hearing after a long day of work..."

His voice and eyes softened...he wasn't lookin' at me, he was lookin' at somethin' else, somethin' in the distance... Imaginin', I guess...?

He took a quick breath and leaned up, noticin' the waita approachin' us...but he still kept his eyes on me.

"What can I get for ya, sir and...ma'am..."

"I'll have a salad with balsamic vinegar, oh, and a bottle of champagne. Get the nice lady here the best dish in the house."

"C-Coming right up, sir!" he tripped over his words, then went back to the front counta.

"...I know. Not only is it him staring at us in awe, but almost every person in this club is taking a glance at us." He frowned, "It can be annoying."

I nodded in understanding, "Take a white sheet of paper, it's fine. Take a black sheet of paper...how unusual."

He seemed interested in that... "Light and dark is what makes up the spectrum. They coexist. Why can't people do the same?" he sighed the last part out.

"Emotion and deep-seated teachings get in the way of logic. If a person were to give me a white child, I'd raise them the same way I'd raise a black child: equality."

"Speaking of equality...what do you think about the Declaration of Inde-"

"Bull$#;."

His eyes blinked to a surprised expression for a moment before returning to a soft gaze.

"I-I'm sorry. I just-"

"No, no, no, it's fine, I respect your opinion. As..cruel as this is going to sound because this isn't true to most people...you have freedom of speech. Don't be afraid to share your opinions with me."

My nervousness settled down afta he said that. "...Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"My thoughts..on the DoI, I hate it. As patriotic the colonists means were towards the newly forming country and the royal Crown, I can't accept that on my part. The only fact about that whole document I like is that Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, and John Adams considered there being a war about slavery in the future. I..I guess I can give props to Abraham Lincoln for helping my people despite him not freeing the ones in the boarder states for economic reasons."

He hummed softly, "I agree with you there..."All men are _not_ created equal"."

"Why...why do you agree with me?" I asked, gettin' suspicious of him.

Is this man tryna to get in my good favor?

"An ethnicity who enslaves, discriminates, and segregates another ethnicity simply because of their skin color, and says "All men are created equal" are hypocrites. I understand why Thomas Jefferson would say that in the document-"

"Because of his mistress, Sally Hemings?"

"Yes, however, I'm conflicted on that. I'd have to talk to the man himself to understand. Anyway, my people experienced that, too," he said somberly.

I closed my eyes, "I know of the Jews history in Egypt and the Netherlands. My Mother has taught the Bible well to me and my sister, but specifically told us "interpret it how you may"."

"About that...no, that's for another time." His serious expression softened and he smiled gently, "So she's the woman who taught the Diamond in the Rough all this knowledge?"

My body tensed and I didn't answer, knowin' he was onto me.

"She taught you and your sister well. I was told you both didn't go to school down there in New Orleans. That's fine, the school system is rigged anyway, just like the justice system. Briefly moving that aside, you're wondering how I know all of this, right? Well, when we get new members at Wall Street, I like to get to know my employees a bit."

My fists clenched as I held back from biting my bottom lip. 'Damn it. Why you gotta be tellin' our business to strangers, Daddy? Well..at least you didn't tell him about Momma..'

"Cassandra, if you don't mind, my condolences...about your Mother," he spoke softly.

A fire formed in the pit of my gut and I glared at him, frownin' at him and the thought of Daddy lettin' that slip.

"I don't need your pity!" I yelled at him, but not loud enough for it to be heard over the chatter and jazz band.

"My apologies," he said, lookin' down at the table. "I know you're here to get your Father a promotion at my company, and I understand you want him to be happy."

"..."

"You didn't need to force yourself to do this or pretend you're interested in me. I'll take you home-"

"No..I'll stay," I said in a soft-spoken voice. My frustration boiled down to..some kinda guilt...? You're..interesting to talk to."

Neither of us said anythin' mo' until the waita came back with our food and wine.

"Thank you," Jesse thanked 'im.

"You're welcome, sir."

I looked down to see some kinda food I've never seen before, but it looked pretty good.

"I hope you like champagne, Cassandra," he spoke to me.

I narrowed my eyes, "I didn't say anything about it earlier, but I thought any kind of alcoholic drink was illegal nowadays."

He popped the cork off with a handkerchief, "Let's be honest, would a cop really come into a place like this...? Unless, they have and just keep quiet about it. Cops are still humans, too."

"Ya got a point there, but at the end of the day, ain't no tellin' what can happen in a black foundin' club when it comes to our skin cula."

He tilted the wine bottle up a little along with his head, stoppin' the pour into my wine glass.

"..."

"What?"

"...Is that how you really speak?"

Embarrassed by the slippin' of my accent and dialect, I covered my lips with my left hand, movin' my gaze away from 'im.

"I-I know I sounded strange. It's just that I didn't want to be judged by how I speak once I got up here, so I practiced how New Yorkers speak."

Jesse kept starin' for a few seconds with a neutral expression, then continued to pour the wine into my glass and his next.

"You shouldn't be insecure about how you speak...nor where you come from. That doesn't define who you are, it just means you grew up in a different region."

"So...?"

"I'm saying, "speak like your usual self". Though we met a year ago, and recently got to know each other. You..you don't have to hide the things you're insecure about around me."

My body slightly jolted at his sudden reveal of his Jewish accent...

"You sound...different," I said with surprise.

"You do, too," he replied with a smile. "Let's wine, dine, then dance."

 _~Small Time Skip~_

After our meal, gettin' a little tipsy from the wine, and swing dancin', Jesse called a taxi, seemin' kinda down for me to be going home so early.

But I don't need Daddy or Auntie gettin' any bright ideas.

"I had so much fun with ya," I told him, gigglin' like a lil' school girl.

"Me, too. Hey..."

I looked up at him, realizing how close he is, how serious he looks...and that I have my arms wrapped around his left arm.

"Hmm?" I hummed with a flirtatious grin.

"You wanna do this again sometime?"

Hesitantly, I nodded, feeling the heat on my cheeks spread.

The taxi driver stopped in front of my Auntie's apartment building.

"Get out, love birds."

Jesse got out, laughin' at the driver's comment, lendin' his left hand out to me to which I scoffed at. Lightly slappin' his hand away, I got out myself and he shut the door behind me.

"I'll wait for you! Give the little lady a kiss!" he said, movin' the car forward a bit.

The heat on my cheeks grew when he said that, knowin' it wasn't the wine this time.

Jesse chuckled..nervously, leadin' me up the stairs by my left hand and we stopped in front of the doors.

"I had a good time with you tonight..Sandra."

"Yeah...so..I reckon you gon' follow what that driver said?"

His cheeks seemed to..become a light pink, and he blinked multiple times, "Huh?"

"*Chuckle* You gon' gimme a kiss or what?"

"Ah..n-no. I wouldn't do that to a woman I just got a better understanding of, and this is like our first date, and I need to respect your boundaries, and-"

I pulled him close by his tie, lightly grazing my lips against his, eyes mischievously glinting from the city lights...

"You need to? But the question is...eske ou vle?"

(...do you want to?")

Gently pressin' my lips to his, I subconsciously wondered was this my own decision or was it the wine...?

Shrugs* Who cares?

His hands slid around my waist, pullin' me closer to him.

The kiss began to get passionate..he was kissin' my lips like they're air.

Both realizin' where we are again, we took a step back from each otha, blushin' and avoidin' eye contact as if we're teenage lovas.

"I'll see you again..when we both have the time, right?" he asked, smilin' down shyly at me.

 _"Oui."_

 _~Time Skip~_

I rolled over in the comfy bed, lightly yawnin' and stretchin'.

'What a night...'

Flutterin' my eyelashes to clear my blurry vision, I jolted and moved back from...Jesse?! Why is he in my bed?!

Though he looks like an Angel with how that mornin' sun is beamin' down on 'im.

I felt his right hand glide against my left arm, as if reachin' out for...me...

"There you are..." he said, groggy voice soundin'..deep and velvety. He pulled me close to his warm, shirtless body. "Why are you so far away~?" he whined.

'Oh, God...not only is he handsome, but he's cute when he doesn't get what he wa—no! Kick him out! Auntie might think this is cute, but if Mira or Daddy sees 'im, that's the end of it!'

I lowered my tone to a soft yellin' whisper, "Hey! How the hell you got in here, I'll never know, but you gotta get the hell out!"

He raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"What do I-" I had a small fit, stumblin' over my words. "My family is here!"

He blinked in disbelief, "...you must've had a nice dream, sweetheart. We're in my home."

Takin' quick looks around the room, immediate stupidity fell on me. I mentally cursed myself...

This wasn't my bedroom.

I covered my face with my left hand, "That dream-like flashback put me back 3 years ago when we weren't dating..."

 _~1924~_

"Yeeeaah...so what were you dreaming about?" A smug smirk slipped on his lips and his eyes crinkled, "Doing something we aren't supposed to when your family's around~?" he teased.

I rubbed my hair back from out of my face, giving him a sarcastic playful look, "Get ya mind outta the gutta. It was...our first date."

"Our first date, huh... It almost feels like yesterday since that happened...when it's really been 3 years." He cuddled me, "And now that I've got you in my arms right now is all that matters to me."

"Mhm," I hummed.

"Sing poetry to me, Sandra," he mumbled.

 _*Silence*_

"He cherishes me from the top of my head, to the bottom of my feet. I never understood what it was about myself that made him keep me. But does that really matta now that I am his, and he is mine. From the beginning of time, our people have been treasured by the divine. I am most thankful to my ancestors for my being here, because if I wasn't, my beloved wouldn't have lured me near."

He left pecks of kisses from my forehead, to the tip of my nose, and my "luscious"―as he would say―lips.

". אני אוהב אותך כל כך, קסנדרה אפילו החוקים. לא יכולים להרחיק אותי ממך בקרוב אבקש ממך משהו שיהיה... יהיה לך קשה ואם אתה מסכים, זה מציב את תוכניות העתיד שלי במשחק... ואולי תשקלי את התיאוריות שלי על מה שיבוא..."

(Hopefully, this translated well... "I love you so much, Cassandra...not even laws can keep me away from you. I'll soon request something of you that would..be hard for you...and if you accept, that puts my future plans in play...and maybe you might consider my theories of what's to come...")

The smile on my lips let out soft chuckles. "I don't what you said, but when you speak soft like that, I can't help to think it's somethin' nice..."

When he didn't reply, I opened my restin' eyes, studyin' his worried lookin' face to which I tiled my head in confusion. That worry dissolved into a gentle expression and small..sad? smile.

 _"Kisa?"_

("What?")

He shook his head, "It's nothing. I got to get up soon to go to work..and you got to get up to go do your poetic jazz at Gianni's cafe. Wish I could be there to hear you, sweetheart."

I slid out from his grasp, getting up, and turning around to face his sad, but adorable, puppy dog face.

"I know you do, Jesse. So I'll come visit ya tonight." He opened his mouth to speak, "I'll disguise myself, don't worry."

"Okay." He smiled as if he's in a daze, "...You look so good in that nightgown I bought for you."

I smirked, "I think I'll look even betta with it off~."

The blush on his cheeks was cute. I don't understand how this man can make such playful and good-intended jokes or compliments..without giving into the dog that I know for a fact is in every man.

I walked in his bathroom to get dressed, 'He is really committed..and I love that about him.'

That's when it sunk in...

I love his personality traits and other stuff about 'im...and if I didn't love 'im, we wouldn't be dating...

But the laws...

I shook my head, 'Yesterday was history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today, I'll live.'

 _~Time Skip to 9 PM~_

As much as these heels was hurtin' my feet and I wanted to go home to take a bath, then lay down, I couldn't.

(h, t, t, p, s : / / img . huffington post . ("com") / asset / 5a9 9c2 002 000 003 800 eb0 7f1 . jpeg ? ops=scale fit_720_noup scale)

Rememberin' I had to go to Jesse's place tonight, I caught a taxi and took my heels off in there, decidin' to remain barefoot.

The taxi dropped me off a block away, so I put on my-...Jesse's fedora to mask my face. My white coat was already doing its justice by keepin' my shielded from bystanders―there were hardly any around―and the February cold.

Walkin' up the stairs with purse and heels in hand, I knocked on the door three times, waitin' for a response...

The door opened, revealin' my smiling, tired-faced boyfriend.

"How was your day, Little Miss Rena?" he asked, pullin' me inside to embrace me.

Before I could even answer, he gave me a passionate kiss. To balance myself, I rest my hands on his shoulder, smilin' durin' the kiss.

When he opened his eyes, I guess he pulled away, wonderin' why I was smilin'.

"You musta missed me with that kinda response. I didn't even get to reply," I spoke, chucklin' at his slight embarrassment.

"Sorry, dear, I just wanted to warm you up and embrace you because you looked so cold."

"Uh-huh..." I turned around to put my heels and purse down, "Anyway, stop callin' me "Little Miss Rena", jus' cause' the Harlem Renaissance began recently, doesn't mean I'm one of the known members..not yet at least. My day was fine. Served a lotta customas, sung my poetry, and received one too many..and _very_ descriptive compliments from men."

The slam of his hands on each side of my head onto the door startled me, makin' me want to turn around, but..I was a lil' afraid of what expression Jesse held...

"I hope I don't have to visit your establishment to make a clear example of who you belong to in front of those men who complimented you."

Bitin' my bottom lip, I hoped he would continue this kinda talk. When he got like this, jealous, I'd find his dominance very..desirable and attractive...

But he would stop at the most inconvenient times, apologizin' and sayin' somethin' along the lines of "You're your own person. I didn't mean to. I just get jealous sometimes about this kind of stuff."

Yes, it's understandable and I love that about you, too, but...but...but a woman has needs, too!

Comin' back to reality, I felt his hands take off my coat afta flingin' his fedora to the side, then his hands sensually wrapped around my hips. He gave them a nice squeeze, alarmin' me and I bucked back against 'im.

Like I said befo', at the most inconvenient times...

Once he let out a deep groan, I heard 'im gasp and pull away from me.

"I-I'm sorry, Cassandra! I..I didn't know what just came over me..."

Turnin' around and leanin' against the door with flushed cheeks―but that couldn't be seen due to my hair covering my face―I nodded, lettin' out quiet pants. "I-It's okay."

'No, it's not, dammit! Touch me! Woah...control yo'self, Sandra. Three years into our relationship, we shouldn't be rushin' in..or...? Maybe I should ask Auntie about this...'

"I made dinner. We should eat."

Quietly agreein', I made my way pass 'im towards the dinin' hall.

 _~Tiny Time Skip~_

Afta our Cajun meal―that I was surprised by how he made it―we sat in the livin' area in front of the fire place.

I rest my back against his chest, embraced by his strong arms, starting at the cracklin' flames in a slight daze, takin' few sips of my glass of sparklin' wata.

'Damn...does he weight lift? Well..gotta build some kinda muscle dealin' with heavy stacks of newspapers and cases of cash.'

"Yeah, Jey..."

"I'm tired..."

An exhausted giggle left me. "No $#;t, Sherlock."

"I mean I'm tired of hiding our relationship."

"Mmn..."

"Aren't you?"

I looked up at 'im with a small smile, "Yeah..I am...but there's nothing we can do about-"

"Yes, we can."

I blinked, tiltin' my head to the side in interest. "What can we do exactly?"

"If you give me your life and I give you mine, then I'll tell you. It's only fair I give you a chance."

My eyebrows raised in question and confusion, "Whatcha mean? I already gave you my life the moment I opened up to ya."

He chuckled, "That's not what I meant. I meant..."

Eagerly waitin' his response, I turned my head towards the fire because I saw somethin' shiny...

And shiny it is.

"If you let me marry you...I can get us both away from here, from the troubles."

I almost forgot how to breath as soon as he presented the...is that a diamond? ring.

I looked up at him, "Jesse, h-how..."

"Today, I didn't go to work, I was lookin' around in New York City for the best engagement ring, just for you."

"...I..I'm flattered..and grateful—really, I am! But I can't marry you... I just can't leave my family so suddenly, a-and interracial marriage is illegal. Hell, the government's even tryna control people's sex lives out there! Where would we go, huh? And why you keep smilin'?! This is no funny matta!"

His smile turned into a small fit of laughta, worryin' me badly.

"I'm three steps ahead of you, hon. Everything you just questioned, I got the answer to."

Frownin' at his..unreadable natcha, I huffed and turned my head forward to look at the ring, wonderin'...

"I...I trust ya afta these pass 3 years s-so...yeah, I-I'll marry ya."

 _*Silence*_

"How unceremoniously spoken," he chuckled out.

"Shaddup," I softly chided and hit his right knee with my right hand as he slid the ring on my left index finger. "How did you afford this?"

"Did you forget your fiancé is a manager at the Wall Street Journal company?"

I made a small smile up at him, admiring his sarcasm.

"Tell me of ya plans."

"We move to Canada to get married." I was about to interrupt, but he pressed his left pointer finger against my lips. "Ah-ah-ah. I got some employees of mine to gather information on their legalities. There is no illegal law on interracial marriage. 63% of the population is born black. And..."

"And...?" I pressed on softly.

"I was hoping you know a good bit of France's French for us to get by because we're going to be livin' in Quebec," his voice raised higher by each word.

I laughed at him, "I was taught both Louisiana and France French, so no worries there. Just..."

"Your family?"

I nodded slowly, looking down a lil'. "How am I gonna break it down to 'em?"

"...you let me handle that."

I looked back up at him in surprise, turning around slightly. "How you gon' do that?! Auntie will most likely rejoice, Mira would be suspicious, but supportive; however, it's Daddy ya gotta worry 'bout, Jey!"

He kissed the top of my forehead, "I don't want my Little Miss Rena worrying that entrancing, melodic voice of hers. I got this."

Staring at him with concern and less worry now, I pouted. "What 'bout yo' family?"

"I already talked to them about the Angel I'm seein'. They didn't oppose any of my plans or ideas."

"Yo' job?"

"I'll switch to a different newspaper company up there."

"Immigration pa-"

He gave me a brief kiss. "*Chuckle* Stop finding things to worry about. I have you covered, Cassandra."

My pout softened, "...okay. I trust ya."

"That's what you should be doing," he chuckled. To lessen suspicions, I won't go with you to pick out your wedding dress..as much as I really want to."

"Oh, no, no. I'll just my saved up money to-"

His embrace on me tightened and he looked me in the eyes, "You're my woman now...and I'm going to take care of you even if you don't want it."

Oh, $#;t...that look always gets to me.

I giggled, all giddy and happy, "You make me feel like a lil' school girl sometimes."

Jey grinned, "I'm glad I do."

"You do know the bride can't be seen by the groom in her dress, right?"

"Who cares about traditions~?" he whined.

I laughed at him, "I'll take Miranda with me since I'll tell her about our engagement first."

"Whatever you're comfortable with... Say, have you had any special feelings towards someone in Louisiana before you came here?"

My pupils dilated at that question and I stared up at him with...

Regret.

"Oh, God...I forgot all about Luc. He said one day he wanted to... Agh, now I feel terrible," I told myself as I covered my face with my hands.

"Who is Luc?"

"A..A childhood sweetheart of mine. He talked about marryin' me someday before I left New Orleans..."

"...We can visit New Orleans before we go."

I looked up at him, "Really?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Anything for you."

I narrowed my eyes, "...you have a tendency of sayin' that or somethin' along the lines of that."

"I want you to know I'll take care of you in sickness and in health."

His recitation made me turn around in his hold, wrap my arms around his neck, and straddle his waist.

 _"Je t'adore."_

"I love you, too," he said sweetly.

We gave long and short kisses, passionate and slow.

Seeing an advantage in this, I grinded my hips against his, making him groan and tighten his grip on my waist.

"Cassandra..." he spoke in a warning tone.

These watas I was slowly descending into are unknown to me...

And as much as I wanted to dive deep in 'em, I respect Jesse's religion.

I smiled, "You are human..but sometimes, I think you ain't with how much you try not to indulge."

His face flushed, "I know fornication is not right, can't exactly say sin because I don't interpret it that like others do. Man sleeping with woman has been happening before A.D. I just...want to wait. Is that alright with you?"

I nodded, "Yeah. I'll respect yo' boundaries, hon."

"Thanks, Sandra," he said with a nervous, but gentle, smile.

Damn you, fornication.

 _~Time Skip to 1925~_

I laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, not feeling any specific emotion.

'Well..since I can't get no sleep...'

I got up, makin' my way to the balcony, openin' the doors to look up at the starry night sky.

I entangled my fingers together and closed my eyes, holding them up to my chest.

"Ya know..there ain't many people I can talk to about this...not even, Mira so..I don't know why I didn't turn to you in the first place..."

I opened my eyes, lettin' a smile slip on lips.

"Mama, I found love...or ratha, he don' found me. It's nearly been 1 year inta our marriage and I'm happy, really, I am...but.."

I looked down, showin' a bit of nervousness and shyness...

"He ain't touch me, Mama! How the hell do I seduce 'im?!"

Immediately, outta nowhere, a swift wind nearly pushed me back.

Was that a sign...or a reaction?

"I-Ion know where to start. Like...should I get a book from a library or...? Ion know! But..I do know I got the waist, the hips, and the a$$ of a seductress! That's what you've been tellin' me since 15, and a woman's beauty can be a weapon!"

Hearin' a door open, I stopped my rant and looked back to see Jey walkin' in.

"I'm home, San-...where are you, honey?"

I stepped inside the room, greetin' him with a smile beneath the gentle moonlight.

"Welcome home, Mr. Ackermann."

He smiled, "Glad to be home, Mrs. Ackermann. What are you doing out on the balcony?" he greeted and asked as he untied his tie and took off his shoes.

"Oh, jus' gettin' some air. I couldn't sleep..."

He pouted, "Was it because I wasn't by your side?"

"...maybe," I shyly replied.

"Aww," he cooed while movin' towards me and huggin' me. "You're adorable."

I giggled, "You can be, too... Um, Jesse, I have a question," I began, pushin' away gently to look up at him.

"What is it?"

"I have a friend here in Quebec. She got married about..2 months ago. She asked me a question...I think would require our knowledge since we've been married since July 1924."

He nodded, "Yeah, go on."

"You know all men and women have needs and wants. She's..a virgin and her husband refuses to touch her, so she was wonderin' what she could do to provoke that side of 'im."

"Apron and no clothes underneath."

I recoiled out of surprise at his sudden response, widenin' my eyes and pokin' my lips out in interest.

He laughed nervously, "I..I guess that was sudden... A man can dream, can't he...?"

I narrowed my eyes...but in a smug way.

'Oh, men...you give yourself away and you don't even know it.'

(I'm all about gender equality here, please don't trash me for this! X3)

"Anyway, I've been meaning to ask you this since you asked me to marry you...out of all places we coulda went in the world to get married, you choose Montreal. Why?"

"I wanted us to escape."

"Whatcha mean...?"

"Both of our ethnicities and...some parts of my religion are opposed. I don't approve of or appreciate a country like that."

"Understandable. What else are ya reasons?"

"I have a reporter in Russia acting as a citizen. From what he tells me...it makes me wanna get out of here before there's another war."

"...What? Hol' on," I said as I turned around and gripped his shouldas. "Whatcha mean, Jey? The Great War's ova."

"No, Sandra. It's not. I got word that there is conflict between Germany and Russia. I was also told there's some uprising big shot in Germany, trying to get the people to refuse paying war debts."

"...that's to be expected from a country that sent a secret diplomatic communication to anotha country, ruined by the white man, that hates America."

"So you're still not ruling out that there'll be another war?"

"Hell nah, not anymo'! My Daddy could've been drafted for that war, and Mama, Mira, nor I was havin' that! Let the white man fight that, us minorities ain't got $#;t to do with that. We focusin' on our rights."

He nodded, "Agreed. Enough of this talk. I'mma go take a shower and snuggle my teddy bear~," he said in a childish tone as he hugged me, rubbin' his cheek atop of my head.

"I swear, you really act like a kid sometimes..."

 _~Two Day Time Skip~_

I hummed a tune to myself while cookin' some grits, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, and 4 biscuits.

A smile was on my face because I am too excited for my husband to wake up and come eat breakfast with me.

We have a routine of sorts: I'll cook breakfast and he cooks dinner. On his late shifts, I would cook dinner or bring something home if I knew beforehand.

I heard a tired yawn, "Good morning, hon."

"Mornin', shuga," I said, turning to him and giving a quick peck on his lips.

(I noticed I typed "suga" beforehand and I was like..."relatable bias, bish".)

A loud 'ding' sounded through the kitchen, signalin' the biscuits are done.

"What's for breakfa—!"

I smirked, knowing he saw his own words from the other night afta I bent down to take the biscuits out with an oven mit.

"Cassandra...what..."

"Um..my friend I was talkin' 'bout the otha day kinda suggested for me to do this, too... Somethin' 'bout spicin' up m-my, uh..s-sex life...? Whatcha think...?"

"...Excuse me for a moment!" he said very quickly, got up, and ran back upstairs...

My shy expression turned smug and knowing... 'It's a start. I gotta thank Nyx when I call her again...'

Quickly, I set up the table, our breakfast, and poured me a glass of sweet iced tea, and him, a mug of Arabic medium roast hazelnut coffee.

Swiftly and quietly, I walked upstairs to see what he is doin'.

Hearing soft... and very..lewd groans from our bedroom, I had a good idea what he was doin'...

'I..I should act like I never heard anything, go back downstairs, and wait for my husband, like the good obedient wife I am...obedient...' I bit my bottom lip, 'Obedience...sometimes must be disobeyed...and I don't see the harm in this.'

Pressing my ear against the door, i jolted at what he was sayin'...

"Cassandra...damn, baby... Those cute little lips wrapped around me and you in that apron is—*groan* f¥k;πg amazing..."

My left thigh brushed against my right one.

"Can only—nghh..imagine wha-t that cute, lil' pink hole feels like..."

I licked my bottom lip.

'Okay..I think I heard enough...' I thought and quietly walked back downstairs, trying my best to get my thoughts together.

"So he likes aprons... *Smirk* Wonda if I still have that maid outfit from Gianni's shop...he musta been admirin' me in it while "silently observing"," I mumbled to myself.

Waitin' a few mo' minutes, I heard him descendin' back down the stairs, and he walked in...with a awkward grin...

"You good?"

"Y-Yeah... Now about your question earlier, I think it looks...different."

"Different?"

"Yes, different...I've never seen you in something as..bare as that before."

"Do ya gotta problem with it?" I asked, intendin' to sound a lil' offended to scare 'im.

"N-No, I don't mind."

"Mhm," I ended that there in a doubtful tone. "Go 'head and eat. I wanna know whatcha think."

"Sweetie, you already know I love your cooking. You could've just gone ahead and eat," he said in a soft tone.

"Nah, I wanted to wait for ya. I like seein' yo' cute, innocent face glow up at the taste of my food."

He lifted a brow as he dug into the toast and grits, "You think I'm innocent?"

"Maybe~" I said in a teasing tone, then glanced down at his plate. "For as long as we've been married, I noticed ya don't touch my bacon or sausage. I neva questioned it because of yo' religion."

"You're a Christian, right, Sandra? From my understanding, the same goes for Christians, too."

"True, but I don't cook bacon and sausage often if ya paid close attention, Jey, nor did my Mama. My family understood it wasn't good for our hearts and arteries, but we'd eat it sometimes."

He nodded, "I'm sure it tastes wonderful, Sandra. I'm sorry that I-"

I pulled a piece of sausage off my fork with my lips, and sucked on the maple syrup flavor...

"It's so..tasty and juicy," I said while sucking on it.

Jey's hands slammed down on the table, indicatin' to me I know I got 'im riled up again.

He leaned over and bit the other half, starin' me directly in my eyes, like a predator ready to attack his prey.

"Hm...?"

His pupils suddenly dilated and he sat back down, "S-Sorry, Sandra... You just made it look so tasty, I couldn't..resist to know what it tastes like..."

I smiled, "It's okay, Jey."

'Did I..just make this man go against his religious tradition...?'

We silently ate our breakfast.

'From what I recall, I think I tried to give back that maid outfit afta a while of attractin' customas and told Gianni I can be the singin' hostess of his shop...but he said "Keep it. A lucky guy might come along." *Chuckle*'

"Sandra, come here."

I looked up from my plate, tiltin' my head, "What fo'?" I asked as I got up, walkin' around the short round table.

Suddenly, he pulled me onto his lap by my waist.

"I didn't love on you this mornin'," he mumbled, givin' me wet and soft kisses on my neck.

I giggled, huggin' him with my arms around his neck. "You wanna love on me a lil', baby?"

He nodded, "Mhmmm..."

I felt his head tilt up to which I looked down at him; we stared at each other in silence..a silence I didn't understand...

"Let's do it."

"Huh?"

"I want to do it..with...you."

"Do what?" I asked, lifting my eyebrows up in confusion.

I could spot him blushin' pink, but still starin' into my eyes with some kind of determination.

"I don't want to make you wait anymore..and it's about time I just man up..." he sighed, lookin' away.

Now, I understood what he means.

"O-Oh..um...w-well...okay..."

'Th-That was quicker process than I thought i-it'd be...'

"L-Lemme go pre-prepare i-n the bathroom!" I said quickly, running upstairs to the bathroom in our room.

'H-How do I go about th-this?! Was he that easily triggered?! Or did I make it too obvious...? Oh, who cares! I got the one thing I've long for since our wedding night.'

(I'm just gonna end that right there [insert awkwardness]. The next chapter is the last chapter. Honestly, a short story shouldn't take me thing long to write, but when I have so many ideas for this...I just can't help myself to go over 6,000 words. Yep, 6,646...)


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